


Origins - Wild Ones (City Elf Origin)

by thatapostateboy



Series: Origins [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Character Death, Childhood, City Elf Origin, Dalish Elves, F/M, Pregnancy, alienage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:58:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatapostateboy/pseuds/thatapostateboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots into the life of the Tabris family before the events of Origins.</p>
<p>From Adaia and Cyrion meeting to the start of Origins.</p>
<p>Set Pre-Game</p>
<p>(Part of the Origins series which takes a look into the story of each Origin, exploring it in more detail)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Cyrion Met Adaia

**Author's Note:**

> (Part of the Origins series which takes a look into the story of each Origin, exploring it in more detail)
> 
> The City Elf Origin was always my favourite, it was my first, and Rowena is my canon Warden. This really started as me exploring the relationship between Adaia and Cyrion, but it turned into so much more.

Cyrion would never forget that day.

He had been walking across the square to visit one of his neighbours, Gethon, who had recently fallen ill. His arms had been laden with groceries he had purchased for his sick friend and a small healing poultice. It had cost him more than he should have paid, but they were a close knit community in the Alienage and everyone tried to look out for everyone if they could.

He hadn’t been looking where he was going and had walked right into someone. He stumbled, dropping most of the food he’d been carrying, but it was the poultice he looked for first. He waited for the inevitable smash of the vial, yet, instead, a quick hand shot out and caught it instead.

He looked up and his eyes fell on the most beautiful woman he had seen in his entire life. Her skin was darkened, but was patterned with intricate tattoos, nothing like he had seen before. Her hair was pinned off of her face, yet it blew behind her, long and ebony, allowing him to see her eyes; dark brown, sharp and quick. Everything about her was different from any other elf he had known, she was singular, unique, beautiful, and above all, _wild_.

“I-I-I… I am s-so sorry,” he stammered, finally getting his words out when he realised he’d been staring at her, “I-I-I… I wasn’t…”

She offered him a small grin, “It’s quite alright. It was my fault; I was in the way. I was observing this tree. It seems so out of place amidst all of these buildings.”

He frowned at her, “Your Alienage doesn’t have a Vhenadahl?”

Her grin faded and she looked awkwardly away before composing herself, “No… It was burned down before I was born. It was never replaced.”

“Then I suppose it must seem strange,” he nodded slightly, “It’s meant to be a symbol for Arlathan.”

She looked surprised at that, “Truly? I never knew.” She then looked down at her hand, realising that she was still holding the poultice, “This is yours, I believe.” She gave it back to him and he gave her a smile of thanks before slipping it into his pocket for safe keeping. He tried to gather up the groceries in his arms, but he finding it hard to get it to fit like he had before. Suddenly, he noticed that she had started to pick things up as well. “Let me help you,” she insisted, a kind smile on her face.

“I’m Cyrion, by the way,” he told her.

“Adaia,” she said, her smile growing.


	2. Wild Girl

He didn’t know what he’d been thinking when he had invited her to stay with him. Well, he did, she had just told him that she had come to the Alienage and now had nowhere to stay, so, charitable as always, he had offered for her to stay in his house. She had tried to decline, but he had insisted. He had seen enough people sleep on the streets before, he wouldn’t allow her to do the same.

She had eaten supper with him and his mother that night, and when the inevitable question came up about why she had come to Denerim, she had simply answered that she was looking for someone and was yet to find them. She said that once she had, she would be on her way.

When she had offered to clean the table, his mother had shot him a knowing look, an approving smile. But he had shrugged it off. This Adaia was wild and beautiful, but she would be gone soon. It would not do him well to get attached.

He had given up his bed and had slept on a mat on the floor. He had tossed and turned in the night, and at one point, led awake facing Adaia’s sleeping form. She had a hand underneath her pillow, and when she shifted in her sleep, so did the pillow, allowing Cyrion a view of the knife she held.

There was so much more to this wild girl that he did not know yet.


	3. Stay

Days passed.

Those days turned into weeks.

And in turn, those weeks turned into months.

Adaia stayed in the Alienage, stayed with him. They grew closer, becoming good friends, and she found her place in the Alienage as though she had lived there all along. She learned about the conflict with the humans in the city the hard way. He lost count of the amount of times she would stagger in the front door after a fight, beaten and bloody, and he would tend to her wounds.

But unlike everyone else, she refused to be beaten into submission. She had a spirit that couldn’t be broken. She was a fighter, and he knew that he should have separated himself from her. One day, she would get herself into real trouble, yet he couldn’t make the break. She was simply the most wonderful person he had ever met, and he had grown to love her.

She spoke no more of the people she had come to find, and instead devoted herself to helping the people in the Alienage. She was learned in the history of the ancient elves and told the stories to as many as she could. She knew how to hide weapons on her person, and even kept a bow in the woods outside of the city that she used to hunt fresh meat that was shared out amongst those that needed it most.

He had asked her where she had gotten her skills, and she had simply told him that her family had taught her. She was forever doing that; answering his questions, but never giving him any details. When he had called her out on it, she had promised that she would tell him everything one day, when she was ready and that had to be enough for him.


	4. In The Dark

His mother died about six months after Adaia had come to live with them. Illness had taken her in the end, but she had slipped away peacefully in the night. Adaia had said a prayer under her breath when they found out she was dead, a prayer that Cyrion didn’t recognise, but it had helped him.

For six more months, she continued to live with him, took a job to help support the household, but they lived a simple life, and it worked for them. Yet after the death of his mother, rumours had started to circulate about the pair of them; that they were together yet unmarried. It became scandalous, and Adaia told him that she would find herself somewhere new to live.

Yet, when they lay in their separate beds one night, he heard her let out an audible sigh.

“Cyrion,” she whispered into the darkness, “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” she admitted, “I just… I have a lot on my mind.”

“Me too,” he told her, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He heard her mattress creak as she shifted a little, “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“You know that you can tell me anything.”

He knew she was smiling, “I know.”

Her mattress creaked again, but then he realised that she was coming towards him, only making out her familiar figure in the dark. She slid into bed beside him, making herself comfortable before turning on her side to look at him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to have this conversation from across the room,” she told him, then leaned her head in close and kissed his lips. It was soft, gentle, but there was a spark behind it that was so perfectly _Adaia_.

He started to kiss her back, his heart thumping hard in his chest. His Adaia, the wonderful woman that had stolen his heart so long ago, was now here in his bed, kissing him, pressing herself against him, starting to remove her nightdress-

It was then that he pulled away, and she paused in her undressing. She quickly looked down in embarrassment, pulling her nightdress tighter around herself, “I thought… I thought that you…” she looked humiliated.

He put a hand on her face, tilting her chin so that she was looking at him, “I do,” he assured her, “I want this more than anything. But not like this. Would you make the rumours about us true?”

“I don’t care about rumours,” she told him, the familiar look of defiance in her eyes, “Let them think what they want. You are the one that I care about, Cyrion. You took me in, you cared for me, healed me when I was beaten, gave me a home… I owe you so much… And I love you.”

He kissed her. He couldn’t help it. She clung to him, kissing him back, wanting no space between them. When they broke for air, he rested his forehead against hers, “I love you too, Adaia. You are singularly the most wonderful person I have ever met, and I adore you with every inch of my heart. I know you have secrets, but they are yours to keep until you want to share them. You are beautiful, and kind, and wild, and I would spend forever with you trying to make you feel as loved as you deserve to be… Adaia… Will you marry me?”

She blinked a few times, then a smile had broken across her face, “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”


	5. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter is purely headcanon; that Adaia is the mother of Mahariel. I've read the headcanon before but I wanted to explore it in more detail.  
> Let me know your thoughts?)

The preparations were made, the elders consulted and the match was approved. They knew they would never find a match from another Alienage for someone who got into as much trouble as Adaia did, and their love for each other was obvious enough that no one would deny them it.

It was the night before their wedding that she had come to him and had finally told him the truth. She had given him the option of cancelling the wedding if he changed his mind. She promised that she wouldn’t blame him, and that no matter what she was about to tell him, it didn’t change what she felt about him.

She was Dalish. That explained her lack of knowledge of Alienage life, her skills with both bow and blades, and the fact that she found it hard to comply to the rules that all of the other elves had learned at the young age, especially concerning the humans.

But then she revealed exactly why she had come to the Alienage. Before she had met Cyrion, she had loved another, an elf destined to be Keeper some day, a man she spoke of with great fondness. Their bonding hadn’t been approved of by either of their clans, but they loved each other anyway. She had fallen pregnant with his child, a child they had planned to raise together in a loving family.

Yet, it was not to be. Both she and her love had been set upon by humans and elves alike, attacked, mugged and left for dead. Her love had died in her arms, slipping away before help could reach them. She had made her way back to her clan, less injured, able to be healed, but something was far more wrong. She had gone into labour. It was too early, she told Cyrion with tears in her eyes, far too early. She had delivered the child, a little girl, but she was too young, too small. They told her she wouldn’t survive long, that her child would die, that there was nothing to be done.

Adaia had held the babe until she fell asleep in her arms, then set among the blankets in her aravel along with her love’s amulet and a small wooden halla that was meant to be her first toy. She knew the child wouldn’t wake up again. Grief stricken, she had taken her bow and blades and walked into the forest, leaving her clan behind. She had already watched her love die in her arms that day, she would not suffer her child’s death as well.

She had intended to come to the Alienage to take revenge on the elves that had helped attack her and kill her love, but once she arrived, she learned of the terrible oppression that the elves there suffered. The longer she stayed, the more she wanted to help, and soon she had built a new life for herself, one where she could do some good for her people.

And a second chance at love, she had said as she glanced at Cyrion, was a gift.

She had broken down into tears then, reminding him that if he no longer wanted to marry her, she would not blame him. Instead, he had held her until she had stopped crying, cradling her close, telling her how much he loved her.

The next day, they were married.


	6. When Grey Wardens Come Knocking

It was a year later when the Grey Warden came to the Alienage. At first, they had believed he was lost, but Valendrian had greeted him and introduced him as Duncan to the curious Adaia. It was obvious he had recognised her facial markings as those of a Dalish, but he made no mention of it.

Instead, Duncan had said that he had in fact come to the Alienage in search of a new Grey Warden recruit, namely one with skills as excellent as Adaia’s. He had told her that the reputation of her combat training had preceded her, and he believed she would make an exceptional Grey Warden.

Valendrian had declined the offer for her, but Duncan insisted that she make the decision herself. She had looked to Cyrion, who stood a short distance from her, listening to the conversation, then turned back to the Warden.

“I’m afraid my answer is no. My place is here with my people,” she told him, then excused herself. She went home, and Cyrion had followed her, quickly shutting the door behind himself so that they could talk in private.

“Adaia, what are you doing?” he asked, looking utterly, confused, “Why are you turning this down?”

“You want me to become a Grey Warden?” she turned to face him, her stance defensive.

“Of course I don’t want you to become a Grey Warden, but this is a fantastic opportunity, a chance to put your skills to good use, to be better than…” he trailed off a little, letting out a sigh.

“Better than _what_ , Cyrion?”

“This life. You can do better than this. You _deserve_ so much better than this.”

She sighed softly and she visibly relaxed. She walked towards him and wrapped her arms around him in a hug, squeezing him tight. He felt a wetness on his shirt and he realised that she was crying. He took her face in his hands, looking into his eyes.

She offered him a gentle smile, “I’m not going to become a Grey Warden, Cyrion. I love my life here. I love this little house, and the fact that we know and look out for everyone. My skills can come in better use helping the people here… and even if it wasn’t for all of that, I’m not leaving you. I love you, Cyrion. I’m not giving you up. Neither you nor our baby.”

He stared at her for a moment, trying to register what she’d just said, “Baby?... What… What baby?” he looked at her, a wide smile spreading across her face and he realised, “You’re with child?”

She nodded, more tears falling from her eyes, “We’re having a baby.”


	7. Proud

Cyrion never had a prouder moment than the day his daughter was born. He would never forget the blind panic he felt when he discovered that Adaia had gone into labour, but he had stayed by her side, no matter how much the midwife insisted that he wait outside.

When their baby was born, Adaia had held her child in her arms, weeping with joy at the sight of her little girl; healthy and safe. She clutched her tight to her chest, marvelling in this little bundle of joy that they had created together. When she finally handed the baby to Cyrion, he already had tears in his eyes.

“She’s perfect,” he said softly, not wanting to disturb the newborn who had fallen asleep in his arms. She had skin the same colour as her mother and even had the beginnings of dark hair atop her head, “She’s going to look like you, love,” he smiled proudly.

Adaia hummed sleepily, her heart swelling with love as she looked at her husband and her daughter, “You’re going to have your hands full with two of us in your life.”

He chuckled, “Aye, but you’re both worth it… What are we going to call her?”

“What about Kallian after your mother?” she asked.

He looked down at their little girl, “She doesn’t look like a Kallian.”

“What about Rowena?”

Cyrion smiled at that, “I like it… Rowena Tabris.”

“Rowena Kallian Tabris.”


	8. Injustice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always loved the idea that Tabris and Surana were childhood friends, so I always wondered how Tabris would react to her friend being taken to the Circle

Adaia sighed as she watched her young daughter sat on the front step of their house, her little face in her hands, elbows rested on her knees, watching the road intently. She glanced to Cyrion who stood beside her, watching Rowena as well.

“We have to explain it to her,” she said softly to her husband.

“She will be heartbroken,” he pointed out.

“I know, but otherwise she will wait on that doorstep until he comes back, and we both know that he isn’t coming back, poor boy,” she glanced up at him, “I’ll speak to her.”

He nodded, and she went to the front door, looking down at her seven year old daughter. Cyrion had been right in the fact that she looked like her. She’d inherited Adaia’s dark hair and eyes, even her attitude sometimes, but her sweet smile; that was all Cyrion. She sat beside Rowena, following her eyes to look at the gates to the Alienage.

“What’cha doing, sweetheart?” Adaia asked her.

“Waiting for Cal to come back,” Rowena told her, not moving her eyes from the gate to look at her mother.

“The Surana boy? You two are good friends, right?”

Rowena nodded eagerly, “He’s my best friend… But I don’t know where he’s gone. Some men in armour came to his house this morning and took him away… I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“Do you understand why the men took him away?”

“No,” she admitted, “But he didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But those men weren’t guards. Not like the ones in the city. Those men are called Templars.”

“Templars?” she cocked her head in curiosity.

Adaia nodded, “They come from the Circle of Magi; the tower where all of those that can do magic live. They go there to train.”

“They train then come back?” she asked, hopefully.

Adaia tried to hide her smile. Her daughter didn’t question that fact that her friend was a mage. She already knew. Smart girl. But when she saw the hope in her daughter’s eyes, the smile faded.

“I’m afraid not,” Adaia told her, “The Circle is for life… I’m sorry, sweetheart, but Cal isn’t coming back.”

Tears filled the girl’s eyes, but instead of clinging to her mother like Adaia expected her to, Rowena got to her feet in anger, “It’s not fair! He didn’t do anything wrong! He didn’t hurt anyone! Why does he have to be locked away forever?”

“Because people believe mages are dangerous.”

“Cal isn’t dangerous. He’s my friend.”

Adaia took hold of her daughter’s hands, giving them a tight squeeze, “There are some things in life that you cannot change, some things that you cannot control. But you cannot let your anger control you. Let it fuel you, not control you. This feeling you have inside of you now, one of injustice, it will stay with you. But you can use it. You may not be able to help Cal, but you can help others so that they can live a better life.”

Rowena hugged her mother, crying into her dress. Adaia shushed her softly, stroking her dark hair. When her daughter looked up at her, she wiped her wet cheeks with her thumbs.

“Will you teach me how to hunt?” Rowena asked her, her voice still shaking from her tears.

Adaia smiled proudly, “Of course.”


	9. Justice is Blind

Since the day her friend had been taken by the Templars, she had been trained in combat by her mother, becoming skilled with both bow and blades. They would use the back alley behind the house to spar, and would sneak out into the woods to hunt. They brought more fresh produce into the Alienage every few days, and the elves prospered without the humans becoming suspicious.

As for hand to hand combat, she found herself practicing more than she should have, often finding herself in a fight with one of the older boys, or on occasion, a human that had wandered into the Alienage looking for trouble.

It felt like déjà vu to Cyrion, watching his daughter stagger through the door, covered in various cuts and bruises, looking the spitting image of her mother. Adaia would roll her eyes to herself when she saw Rowena, scolding her a little for getting into a fight then tending to her wounds, but she would always give her hints on how to do better next time when she thought Cyrion wasn’t listening.

There were but three rules that Adaia told her daughter to live by.

One, people will always underestimate you, so prove them wrong.

Two, you have the power to fix injustice.

Three, do not judge all by the acts of a few.

The latter had become a prominent rule after she had returned from the Arl of Denerim’s estate one night after being arrested for getting into trouble. She had been rescued by a human, one far kinder than those that she had been exposed to by living in the Alienage. She had told Rowena of her, and made sure that her daughter learned the same lesson as her.

Rowena was thirteen when the day came when she decided that her mother’s last rule was little more than a fantasy.

They had been out hunting in the forest when it had happened. They had been tracking a doe for a while now, following her trail deeper into the trees. These were her favourite moments with her mother, watching her hunt, the fact she looked more at home here than in the city. Her father had always described her as wild, but that wildness was something she admired her for.

But when Adaia had stopped, lowered her bow, her ears twitching as she picked up a new sound, Rowena knew something was wrong. She opened her mouth to ask, but her mother pressed a finger to her lips.

“You have to hide,” she told her, her voice hushed, eyes darting everywhere, “There’s someone coming, and if they catch us, they will kill us, do you understand?”

She nodded, and they quickly found a tree suitable for her to climb up into. Adaia helped her daughter up. Rowena was not as apt a tree climber as she had been as a child, but she was smart and light footed, and was soon up high, hidden by the branches and leaves.

Adaia turned to climb up behind her, but it was too late, the footsteps that she’d heard finally came close enough for her to see. Four humans, obviously armed, likely hunting like they were, advanced towards the elf.

“What have we got here, lads?” one chuckled, “A little knife ear frolicking in the woods?”

“Out here all alone,” his friend pointed out, then eyed the bow in her grasp, “And armed, too.”

“Now where did a knife ear like you get a bow like that?” one asked, “Steal it, did you?”

“I am no thief,” she told them, an edge to her voice, “It’s mine.”

“I didn’t think elves were allowed weapons,” one of the men said.

“They ain’t,” another agreed, “We’re going to have to take her into custody.”

There was a laugh from them as they came closer, “She’s a pretty one, too. Always liked the pretty ones.”

“Come quietly, elf, and we might forget we found your little weapon.”

Adaia’s jaw set and she raised her bow, “Turn around and walk away, _now_.”

“Now why would we do that?”

“Because you don’t strike me as stupid men. But try and touch me and I will kill you,” she hissed.

There was another laugh, “She’s got spirit. I like that.”

One reached to grab her and ended up with an arrow in his neck. The others advanced on her so she dropped her bow, drawing her blades instead. Her movements were swift, graceful, deadly, nothing like Rowena had ever seen before. She sliced her dagger through one of the men’s stomachs, but as she turned to attack one of the others, she missed the movements of the fourth man and Rowena could do nothing but watch as he slid his sword through Adaia’s stomach.

“NO!” Rowena screamed before she could stop herself. With rage boiling her blood like nothing she had ever experienced before, she knocked an arrow into her bow, firing it at the man that had stabbed Adaia. It pierced him right through the eye and he stumbled backwards, screaming in pain. The other man looked up in fear, not knowing where the arrow had come from, but was quickly felled by another arrow from Rowena’s bow.

Clambering down from the tree, Rowena saw the man that had stabbed Adaia, cowering in fear on his knees, blood running down his face.

“Mercy,” he begged when he heard her footsteps, “Please, mercy.”

_This feeling you have inside of you now, one of injustice, it will stay with you. But you can use it._

Rowena slid another arrow from her quiver and without a single thought, she fired it into his other eye, watching him keel over, dead.

She turned from his dead body and ran to her mother’s side, finally allowing the rage to subside and letting the grief flow in.

“Mother,” she whispered, stroking her soft cheek, “Please wake up.”

Adaia’s eyes flickered open for a moment. She let out a few ragged, pained breaths, clutching at her daughter’s hand, “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Stay with me, please,” Rowena begged, tears rolling down her cheeks, “We can get you help.”

Adaia smiled softly at her, “You know it is too late for that… Be strong, my brave girl… My precious baby girl…”

She went still, breathing no more, the light leaving her wild eyes for good.


	10. Trouble Maker

After that day, Cyrion barely spoke of Adaia. The memories were too painful. He knew that one day, she would get herself killed because of her strong will. He would not see his daughter meet the same fate. So if he spoke of her, he would make sure not to mention all of the trouble she used to get into.

But, it was far too late. Rowena had already been influenced by her mother, and she took her place as the ‘trouble maker’. She got into less fights with other elves, and into more with humans. But she only got into the fights she wanted to. She had learned her mother’s roguish ways, and had applied them not only to combat, but to everyday life. She knew how to sneak into the market unseen and steal things they needed. If someone in the Alienage was sick and couldn’t afford the medicine, you could guarantee that they would find the right potion on their doorstep, or someone who was lacking food would find fresh fruit, vegetables, bread and meat to keep them plenty fed.

She wanted to help her people, but wasn’t prepared to take any stick from humans. She was proud to call herself an Alienage elf; to call herself Adaia’s daughter.

That, combined with her cousin Shianni’s similar attitude, Cyrion knew that one or both of them were going to get themselves into terrible trouble one day. He had already lost one person he cared about. He wasn’t going to lose his daughter as well.

So he decided that finding her a husband would be the best way to set her on the right path.


End file.
